What It's Like....

It's like standing on the shore ,feet plastered in the sand while the waves come at you. Some just lap at your feet,they come in quickly, barely touch you and then fast as they came... they're gone again. Others knock you over, steal your breath, leave you disorientated, scared....panicked. There are some that come slowly but that are so huge you can see them coming for what seems like forever.... you brace yourself, you tell yourself to keep breathing, you plant your feet in harder, stand up stronger....but it knocks you over anyway. And after every wave, you know there will be more. You know the ocean is neverending, the waves will ALWAYS find you, you know there's nothing you can do, no life boat coming to rescue you. You know those waves are forever going to be coming and all you can do is take it's beatings.
It's been 13.5 months  of my feet plastered in that sand. I feel eroded. I'm worn out. I want a break from the waves.
I will NEVER get that. I could live another 50 years...... grief will always find me.

What It's Like.....

It's a rare sunny moment in January when I'm enjoying sunlight on my face, sitting on the porch and 4 Kiowas fly over in the distance.  It's hanging your head and sobbing. Some days the helicopters don't bother me. Sometimes they do.

It's grocery shopping and bending down to grab a box of cereal and your eyes fall on his favorite, the one you never buy anymore and all of sudden not be able to breathe.

It's watching everyone else's lives go on... living everyday life, celebrate birthdays & holidays, adoptions, new babies, deployments, homecomings, dinner, or just going to get coffee together while you wade through living hell.

It's putting on a brave face when all you want to do is scream at everyone. 

It's hearing a song on the radio that he liked and it reduces you to a bawling, snotty mess on your kitchen floor after you've had a fairly decent day.

It's looking at your kids and wanting the world to end because they don't have their daddy.

It's having nightmares about watching helicopters crash while you stand and scream because there's nothing you can do about it.
It's feeling a shameful combination of anger,jealously, bitterness and intolerance for any kind of reminder of the life you use to have...... families at the park, couples driving through the neighborhood in their minivan, kids holding their dads' hands at the busstop, oh, that list could go on for days.

It's looking at pictures from your life before he died and not being able to see anything but loss.

It's all of sudden recently being so tormented by the details of the accident, being so angry, so enraged, so bitter that the mistakes of others cost you everything. It's wanting the ridiculous, avoidable mistakes that are so many to add up to a huge DO OVER and bring them all back. "Hey guys, those flights ended up really f*cked up. We're gonna go ahead and do that over again. Everyone do their f*ckin job this time,pay attention to where you're flying and maybe four people won't die and all these lives get ruined. Mmmmkay?Great. Thanks."

It's sitting in church, surrounded by families and couples, while you sit by yourself, tears streaming down your face because you just don't feel God anymore. 

It's watching a little boy you adopted and was suppose to have forever be loved and flourish with another family. A mom AND a dad.  It's being thankful, happy for him, ashamed,guilty,angry,jealous, bitter and bittersweet all at the same time. All the time. It's having people brush off that part of your loss like it doesn't mean anything because "it was the right thing to do."  The "right thing" didn't make it any easier to deal with.

It's sitting in a packed vehicle with all single friends when a song comes on the radio from the 90s and someone says "What's your memory of this???" and not sharing because that was a song from another time, another place, another love.........a different life.
It's always being "different" than everyone else. 

It's having the only thing stopping you from standing in front of an oncoming train be the three already traumatized children who are sleeping upstairs. The ones who need your sh*tty mothering skills to get them to adulthood. God help us all.

It's with me all the time. Before my feet hit the floor in the morning I already want to go back to sleep and escape it all. Grief is the underlying hum of my existence. It's running in my thoughts while I'm showering, getting kids ready for school, driving, grocery shopping, sitting at the park while Liam plays, cleaning, washing dishes, etc etc etc. The core of who I am has been forever and completely changed. My reactions, my opinions, my fears, my worries, my insecurities,my emotions..... all are different now. And I can't trust they'll be consistent either.
It's changed my faith, my relationships, my mothering.... it has left me damaged.
 I use to be hopeful. I use to put up a fight. I use to pray. I use to care about having a purpose. Now it just takes too much energy and I'm tired of getting knocked down.


I’m tired, I’m worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I’ve made mistakes
I’ve let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That’s frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that’s dead inside can be reborn
Cause I’m worn

I know I need to lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak
Life just won’t let up
And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

My prayers are wearing thin
Yeah, I’m worn
Even before the day begins
Yeah, I’m worn
I’ve lost my will to fight
I’m worn
So, heaven come and flood my eyes

Cause I'm worn........

-Tenth Avenue North

You've defended the silver lining.....

~Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good

You know, it's nothing new
Bad news never had good timing
Then, the circle of your friends
Will defend the silver lining 

 Pain throws your heart to the ground
Love turns the whole thing around
No it won't all go the way it should
But I know the heart of life is good

-The Heart of Life, by John Mayer~

Oh my friends & family, how do I start to thank you for what you've done for us over this last year? 

I have written this post in my head many many times since last December, I'll never be able to get the words right and I will never,ever be able to repay the kindness and love shown to me,my kids, my family. There are few things that have made any sense this year, but a strong, constant truth has shown itself time and time again....... we are loved,we are surrounded, we are prayed for, we are cherished. My faith has been my Rock. YOUR love,support and encouragement have been the hands piecing my broken heart back together. God has given me amazing people. What have I done in this life to deserve this kind of love? I'm in awe. 

I've wanted to list every single one of you that has helped me, but it's just not feasible. Please know I am thankful for every. single. thing. 

Every card, letter,text message,phone call, email,care package,every funny gag gift( thank you for helping me maintain my sense of humor!). 

Every meal, cup of coffee, every time you babysat my kids, every time you invited them over for a playdate, every time you let the boys wrestle you or ambush you with Nerf guns. Every time you came and sat with me, listened to me tell the same story over and over again. Every time you took me out for Indian food, every time you ran alongside of me,every inappropriate joke you told me and made me laugh, every stupid unicorn thing you sent, every awkward hug.

Everytime you cried with me, laughed with me, got mad with me,prayed for me,hurt for me, helped me with some house project, helped me achieve something that has helped heal me. 

Every visit. Gosh, some of you came from so far away, you came that first week, or came later on,  some of you came during ice storms and the whole house having the stomach flu. You came when Washington weather was , uh, well.... very Washington. You came and saw the grief up close and personal, and you loved us through it.

There are some of you who have had to endure the worst things this year brought to me. From the first phone panicked,in shock phone calls I made at 3 am on December 13, I have had you by my side and there's just no words to thank you. I would never wish witnessing this kind of pain and grief on anyone, I hurt for my loved ones that have had to walk this weary road with me. It has not been easy for you.

 From coming to make funeral plans,  standing beside me viewing my precious Frank's body,holding my hand through memorial services, having to leave the house after hearing my sweet Ronin's cries when I told him his Daddy was gone,having to tell your own children the horrible thing that happened,watching me walk around shell shocked for weeks, watching me lose myself and find myself again,  running miles of tears and heartbreak with me, witnessing the effects of immense grief in my children, talking with me about my heartbreaking decision about Hunter. Sitting beside me when I signed over my parental rights,watching as I buckled him in his carseat one last time and sent him on to his new life. Hurting every time little Liam greets you with " You know, my Daddy diiiiiiiiieeeeeed." Picking up Frank's ashes,worrying and crying for me.You've hugged me through my pain, laughed with me, shown me love and friendship that I've never known. 

Friends, Family..... 

    You've defended my silver lining. 

                                               Thank you.

Widow On A Mission:September

Hi friends & strangers,

Last month my Widow On A Mission goal was $1,200 for formula for the babies in the village of Bugabo, Uganda.

You donated an amazing $3,200. 

People, thank you. My goal was to challenge you to give. I don't want anyone giving out of guilt or a feeling of obligation.... you know, cuz I'm a widooooooow. Give because it feels good. Give because we have so much and others have so little, give because your fellow humans (that's right, notice I didn't say fellow Americans, or people of same race, religion, income level, education level, Bieber fans Vs. nonBieber fans, etc. Fellow. Humans.) can benefit from it and you get nothing in return.
 I love generous hearts and you came out in full force.

And as I'm sitting here in this coffeeshop , it's 7:37pm on the 12th. 9 months since our whole world was forever changed.

I could stand outside and scream.

But I choose to change the world. 

Change it with me.


This month we will be raising money for a roof for the clinic in Bugabo Uganda. This is something extremely close to my heart, as it was something Frank and I were actually fundraising for right when he died. The walls are up on "The Cross" ( the clinic's name AND shape) but it needs a roof so that the concrete foundation can get laid. Right now is rainy season and  we don't need the dirt foundation getting washed away.

This clinic( hospital,really) will service 2,000 in Bugabo AND people in surrounding villages.In a place where people regularly die of malaria and many other things that could be prevented IF there were adequate medical prevention,care, medicine, follow up.... this is HUGE.  It will have an operating room, a birthing room, general treatment rooms and overnight rooms.  This place is going to change lives, save lives.

I have no doubt that one day in the next year or so I will be there walking through that clinic, maybe washing some feet, giving out hugs,smiles and lollipops. My long term goal is to go to nursing school when all my kids are off to full time school, and specialize in HIV/AIDS nursing.... specifically to do missionary nursing.  Until then I can do this for the  people of Bugabo.  Your $12, $25, $150, $240 can help make an enormous impact that will benefit not just for a little while.... but for generations. And let's face it..... ALL people have a right to medical care. It's that simple.


HOW TO HELP:

GO TO EKUBO MINISTRIES  ( Click the highlighted link)

and use their donate button.  Please make sure you reference " FRANK" in the note.

Go to Facebook and check out their page, "like" it and you can keep up with everything that is going on. Amazing things are happening in Bugabo.


GOAL:  Well, the roof looks like it's going to cost roughly $35,000.  I'm not setting a goal. Please just give and we'll see what kind of awesomeness happens this month.


Ready, set..... GO.

And thank you in advance. Last month's response to the Widow On A Mission project pulled me out a Summer of Suck.  I even started wearing mascara again, since I'm not crying in the car constantly anymore. That's huge. :)



Take THAT September 12!

Marriage......

August 24,1997   Manitou Springs,Colorado

Today would have been mine and Frank's 15th anniversary. Last year on Aug 24, we had about 10 minutes with each other all day. I drove him through the Burger King drivethru for his lunch and we finalized renting the house in Washington. Nothing flashy, nothing spectacular. Just normal life.
 Normal life.

I issued a challenge to friends and family back in December, and I've been feeling really pressed to just keep reminding people that our time here is so short, you never know how numbered your days are......

 December 18,2011

Are you loving your spouse? REALLY loving them? Are you working at it? Are you forgiving? Are you selfless? Are you laughing? Are you loving more than fighting?Are you kissing them goodbye every time they walk out that door? Are you saying "I love you" EVERY chance you can get?

If you're not.... why the hell not? What are you waiting for? Someday could be too late. I'm so thankful he left me feeling incredibly loved the last 15 years. He kept every vow he ever made to me and it wasn't always easy but wow, was it worth it.

 Marriage is haaaaaaaard. It is not always fun, sometimes it's downright miserable. Frank and I weren't perfect, there were definitely some hard moments in those 15 years. Moments when I'd look at him and want to punch him straight in the face, moments when,especially after deployments, I'd look at him and wonder "Do I even KNOW this guy anymore?!", moments when I thought about just packing it in. I'm know he felt like that sometimes too. But then I'd stop and think about how the thought of living without him was the worst thing I could think of.  And it is. It's the worst thing I can think of. I'd give anything to even be stuck in a moment where I might have slightly hated his guts, because at least there was still hope, there was still the knowledge that he was there and we would stick it out, no matter what. Because we always did stick it out.

Marriage is so much about selflessness. And people today have it SO WRONG. I want to send a wake-up call to my generation...... DUDES.....GET OVER YOURSELVES. You cannot always have it your way. You cannot always be right. You are not entitled. Ladies, you are not freaking princesses, stop acting like spoiled brats ! Gentlemen, man up and be who you were created to be!
SPOUSES....put aside your selfishness, your stubborn pride, your belief that you deserve the moon handed to you, be tender with each other, make the other laugh,make the other feel like they are worth something.You will not regret these things! Marriage is about DAILY dying to self and LOVING ONE ANOTHER. This is NOT easy. You HAVE to work at it. Every.Single.Damn.Day. Yes, it's exhausting some days. Sometimes those days will drag on for months. FIGHT THROUGH IT. Quit fighting over piddly crap, quit taking them for granted, quit complaining about everything. You looked that person in the eye one day and promised to love them no matter what comes.... sickness, health,prosperity,desperate times,times of annoyance, times of starry eyed passion. Hey. How about DOING THAT?! Keep your promise.
Ladies, I know this hard, but put down that laundry basket, stop making those school lunches.... go sit on his lap and make out with him. Better yet, insist you go make out in the minivan that's parked in the garage. Guys, take that laundry basket out her arms, look her in the face and tell her you just want to be with her.  Look at each other and remember the promise you made. Having a rough patch? Do you still have breath? You do? Then FIGHT for your marriage.

I sit here with a  very different perspective this year. Last year I was the one being asked to just put the laundry basket down, stop folding the cloth diapers, stop making the menu plans, stop cleaning up baby toys and "Just come sit down with me for a few minutes." Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn't. I will forever kick myself for the times I didn't.  Time with him was precious. It was so short. And I didn't know the clock was counting down our days so fast.  I thought I had 50 more years to sit beside him.

 I didn't know that after only 14 years, 3 months & 18 days of marriage he would chase me up the stairs one Monday morning while our two littlest sons were napping, we'd make love one more time before he left for work

and never came home. 


Please don't waste your promise. Please don't waste your precious days. Marriage is a gift. I beg you to treat it like one.


 

Widow On A Mission: August

August 12 marks 8 months since we lost Frank and entered our new reality. I've spoken a lot about trying to figure out who I am after all this loss. No longer a wife, no longer an adoptive mother.... I am desperate to regain some part of the Kryste I use to be.... passionate for the orphan, the widow (ha, how ironic!), the oppressed, the sick.... the souls my God has commanded me to do something for. I was lucky enough to be married to man who had a huge heart, a generous spirit and a fire in his gut for helping others. We made a good team.  I cannot sit and do nothing. I cannot only think about myself and my pain, my loss, my brokenheartedness. I have to DO something. 
 A few weeks ago a wise friend of mine posted 
"If you cannot give a man love, give him something to hope for, if you can't give him hope, give him something to do. - from Flight of the Phoenix
 From the very day we knew we had lost him, I was fixated on trying to make sure good things came from his death. Fundraisers have been run, paying off our adoption and the excess went into grant funds for a few little girls waiting for families in Russia. I sold memorial Tshirts that benefited a health clinic that is being built in a remote village in Uganda. I pleaded with Facebook friends to donate towards airfare for bringing children home to their new families. Good things HAVE come from this. And I have no intention of letting that slow down. 
Ghandi once said "The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in service of others."  


   I am starting a nonprofit in Frank's honor and to continue the work and passion that made us who we were as a team. LiveYourLoveLoud will be for orphan care AND prevention,funding water projects,HIV/AIDS prevention & treatment in Africa, helping widows/single mothers,adoption grants for military families and other projects to help serve the people of the world who deserve clean water, food, health care, education and a chance to grow up and be world changers in their own villages & countries. 
 I am asking you to come alongside me. Help be the change you wish to see in the world. Help hungry babies. Help struggling widows & single mothers maintain their dignity and care for their family. Help children receive an education, meals, clean water. Help military families trying to adopt afford those fees and get their child/children home.  Help me heal this brokenheart.Perpetuate HOPE.

From now until December, on each 12th of the month, I will be doing a different fundraiser to benefit chosen projects. 
This month(August) we are running a Formula Drive for Ekubo Ministries. This will benefit feeding 19 babies in the village of Bugabo Uganda that need formula to live.  Folks, there's no WIC program there. These babies depend on donated formula. 

My goal for August is $1,200 in donated funds/can of formula


HOW TO HELP:

* From now until August 15 donate $12 (one small can of formula) or $24 (one large can of formula) by using our Pay Pal button . $12? $24? EASY! Just do it!

The formula will be purchased here in the States and taken by someone going back to the village. I will personally be paying all shipping costs. Oh, and I don't mind paying lots in shipping costs if it means there's a TON of formula. Seriously, people, bring.it.on.

* For local friends (and sorry blog world, this only means folks I know)..... an anonymous donor will donate $10 for each person that brings either a monetary/gift card/can of formula donation directly to me. Guess what that means? More formula AND you come visit a widow & some fatherless children during a hard time. ( James 1:27 right there!). We love company, we like distraction and my poor babies crave male attention. Bring a can of formula, have a cup of coffee with me, kick a soccer ball/wrestle/play Legos with my kids. 

It's THAT easy. Donate a little, help a lot.  

I refuse to let grief and sorrow swallow up our 12ths anymore. Please help me make these dates something that change the world for the better. 

  Frank and I sponsored this sweet baby for about 6 months back in 2010, the photo on the left is her.... at 2 years old. After 6 months with regular formula..... she looked like a chunky baby.

Home and He Is Here.

" Home is not places, it is love." - Apache Relay

" Home is wherever I'm with you.
Ah, home, home is wherever I'm alone with you"- Edward Sharp & the Magnetic Zeroes


I was upstairs folding the boys' laundry , thinking about how life use to be and a horrible realization hit me once again. I've struggled with being in this house the last months, not because it's overrun with memories...Frank was only in this house for 6 weeks before he died. It's now been 32 weeks without him. Hunter has been gone for 5 months. I found one of his bottles under the guestroom bed the other day. I find his things popping up all over. Hurtful reminders of how life was. Chaotic. Hard.Exhausting. But worth it.
This house doesn't feel like home because it's not HOME. It's where my dreams have died. It's where everything seemed to be coming together, even in very hard, life changing ways, and then WHAM! ripped away in a 3 second crash to the ground. Quite literally. 7:42 pm on December 12 turned my life into a nightmare and turned this house into a place no one wants to be anymore.
I bought a new house just around the corner. We move in there in a few weeks. Will it feel better there? To live somewhere he's never set foot? I cringe at the thought of it. The day I went to the closing I cried all the way there. I said I'd rather be living in a van down by the river with my husband and 4 kids than that new house. This world has no hold on me.  At Frank's memorial service I got up and spoke and one thing I said was " I've never been so impatient for Heaven." I had heard people saying that for my whole adult Christian life... "Jesus, come quickly", and never understood the rush. Oh buddy, do I understand now. Do.I.Ever. Most the time I feel like the only thing holding me here is gravity. Jesus, I beg You, come quickly. Come now.

Today marked one year to the day since Hunter Michael was placed in our arms and we were entrusted to be his parents. FOREVER. His forever family. Oh, how the world rejoiced that our special little guy was going HOME with us.

And July 26, 2011 started a new, hard, weird, wonderful, awful phase of our life. Struggle like we'd never known. Heartache we weren't prepared for. Grief we'd never been exposed to. In those months afterwards I thought life couldn't get harder. That we couldn't possibly be stretched by faith more. I felt we were living our calling, living the hard path we'd prayed for. Because we had prayed "Jesus, don't give us EASY, we want to do hard things for You."  July 26 started a lesson about love not being just a feeling. Love is a verb. Love is doing hard things when we want to give up. Love is putting your all into taking care of someone despite your reservations, love is being covered in vomit & tears. Love is advocating,fighting for, opening yourself up to judgement,condemnation, loneliness, public opinion,losing friendships, powering through when family members don't support your decision. Love is crying and rocking a baby who won't look you in the eyes. Love is cheering like a maniac when he finally did, when he did ANYTHING. Love is singing him praise songs and praying over him when you put him to bed. Love is storming the gates of Heaven with prayers for miraculous healing & protection from the Enemy. Love is being so exhausted you can't see straight. Love is doing things that will take you out of your comfort zone. Love is saying "yes" when all you really want to do is scream "No, I can't do this!". Love is not just the primal, motherly feelings that don't always necessarily come right away. Love is still DOING the right thing even when it hurts. Love is being there. Love is holding a child that is not biologically yours and promising them you'll take care of them. Love is what I did. And in those horrible weeks after losing Frank, it's what I thought I didn't have for Hunter. Love was making the worst decision of my life to give him up, but it felt so selfish at the time. Everyone was so supportive with "It's the right thing to do for all of you." I never felt comforted by it. I still felt like I was making the most selfish decision of all time. Give him up, so YOU & your kids can have an easier life.  That was never suppose to be the point of our lives. I am caught up in a spiral of shame, guilt, regret, hurt, anger & grief, and I don't know how to get out of it.  What's the fix? Seeing him thrive his new family? Sweet & bitter. Seeing Hunter get a wonderful daddy when, because of his mental disabilities he's very much an "out of sight, out of my mind" child? He never grieved for Frank. He was the luckiest person in this house..... safe in his mind, oblivious to the loss. And HE was the one who got a new daddy,an amazing one. HE was the one who got to leave this Grief House and escape.My head was such a fog even to the very minute I buckled him in his carseat, handed him his favorite giraffe and his blankie and watched Jason & Dawn drive away with him. His actual forever family.
 None of this is fair. I could scream it at the top of my lungs, God, this is not fair and I'm so mad!  I prayed and prayed to You for protection. I prayed you'd keep us from the plans of the Enemy. I prayed. I knew we had a target on our backs for following Your will in this, but Lord, please tell me this was a mistake. In all my life I never prayed so much as those few months before Frank died. WHY? WHY? 
 I don't pray as much now. I just don't have the words. It's like every beat of my heart is a loud shout to God for mercy, to keep me going. Show me hope, Lord. Show me our new path. Show me the light at the end of this horrible long tunnel.  And this week in particular I've gotten very angry. Wrestling with my belief that He is here, His hand in everything. Why couldn't that Hand just moved that helicopter 20 feet out of the way? Why couldn't they have all just been injured? I KNOW people who have survived "unsurvivable" crashes. WHY couldn't that have been our story? Why couldn't Frank have been paralyzed? I would have taken care of him. He would have been an ornery prick, grumpy to have lost his legs, but he would have pushed through.... he would have skydived in a friggin wheelchair. He would have. Anyone that knew him knows he was THAT kind of guy.  Dammit! He was even robbed of the honor of dying in combat, instead in a stupid avoidable accident.
WHERE WERE YOU!?!
  Thankfully I never dwell in doubt too long. Can I explain Him? No. Can I describe the power of redemption, healing and grace? I can't. But I feel it and I hope I'm a living testimony to it.  As long as I live I'll never understand why this happened, I might not ever be able to completely even believe it. But I believe it when He said " I will be with you always, even until the end of the age" ( Matt 28:20). Even in our grief. Even in our doubt. Even in the mind numbing fog, stillness & haunting loneliness. Even when the helicopters are circling this house relentlessly some days. He's there just as much as when hope is shining in my face, when a run feels victorious, when a sunset seems magical, when the kids & I are laughing and grief isn't hurting our moments. Can't have one flipside without the other, life just isn't like that. If I believe He's here, then I'll believe it no matter what comes. He's the same today, tomorrow and yesterday.


On this day......

 and this day.....

 this day.......

 this one......

 He was here, even on this day......

 He was here on this day.......

 And on this day.....

 And every day since........

"This Is Home"( Switchfoot)

I've got my memories
Always inside of me
But I can't go back
Back to how it was
I believe you now
I've come too far
No I can't go back
Back to how it was

Created for a place I've never known

This is home
Now I'm finally where I belong
Where I Belong
Yeah, this is home
I've been searching for a place of my own
Now I've found it
Maybe this is home
This is home

Belief over misery
I've seen the enemy
And I won't go back
Back to how it was
And I got my heart set on what happens next
I got my eyes wide it's not over yet
We are miracles and we're not alone

And now after all my searching
After all my questions
I'm gonna call it home
I've got a brand new mindset
I can finally see the sunset
I'm gonna call it home

Now I know
Yeah, this is home
I've come too far
And I won't go back
Yeah, this is home

  

Half A Year.

 6/12/12-
6 months ago today the world stopped for us. In many ways I continue to be stuck on December 12. I  can't believe it's been 6 months since I last saw him, heard his voice in my ear, kissed him, laughed with him. Everyday feels like Dec 12 was yesterday and a million years ago. Time definitely moves differently now. It is still very hard to believe he is never coming home. It scares me how many times a day the full realization hits me, I don't want to keep feeling like this much longer, I want it to sink deep down and be. I can't account for the last 6 months. Foggy,foggy,foggy times. I don't know what I do with my days. I try not to be home as much as possible, being here hurts too much and reminds me too much of both the losses... Frank and Hunter. Life is such a different picture than it was in early December. My grief over losing Hunter has only recently started surfacing, the first few months after he left I just was numb to it, now it hurts. Badly.
  I thought that after this first half year things would be easier. It's not. I cry more now than I ever did. I miss Frank more, ache for him more, hurt for my kids more, everything is just MORE and harder. About a thousand times a day something... a song, a memory, a smell, a picture, a word, a place will cause an ice pick to the chest feeling. Who knew you can live with so much pain in your heart?You can.
 But I don't live in sorrow all day long. We go about our days, sometime around mid April I think we finally came out of survival mode and started finding our new normal. Everyone's changed a little, the kids are actually doing pretty well. I've maintained my sense of humor through it all and if you see me on FB....you know we're surviving.  But I  do not verbalize most of what I feel, it's very lonely but there's just nothing to do about it. The one person I want to talk to the most is forever silent. I dream about him sometimes, in most my dreams he can't speak and in ALL of them I know that he's been dead and I only have a little time with him. Sometimes I can't remember any dreams but wake up feeling like I have just seen him, smelled him, felt him. I can't look at pictures of him for more than about 3 seconds and then the horrible realizations and gut wrenching grief hits me. But I love to talk about him, I can show pictures to people and tell every story without losing it because it feels like it's helping keep him real. I NEED to say his name. I need to tell his stories. I'm so scared after another few months everyone will get tired of our grief, my need to talk about him or to share memories of him with me. Every shared memory puts a piece of the picture back for me. Sometimes someone will send me a message about something that happened in the past and it will give me back a memory I'd forgotten about and I love those moments. I NEED those moments.
 I have clung to the promise of hope, that God will redeem and all this pain will not be in vain. None of it makes sense, I know it NEVER will. I try to focus on what is good, that despite all this horrible hurt.... we ARE blessed and lucky. We are. God is here and He's never left us for a second. I have raised my hands to heaven more these last 6 months than ever before. I feel at times that Jesus is sitting right in this hurt with me. For whatever reason, I've been trusted with this hurt, I've been trusted with this path I'm on. I can only keep moving ahead and pointing up. Am I failing, saying the f word alot and losing my temper? You bet I am. Grief isn't pretty. But I hope I'm showing realness, and I hope I'm putting a spotlight on the One who knows exactly how this story will end. I hope I'm showing my kids that things suck but we still laugh, we still play, we still treat people kindly, we still thank Him for what He's done for us. I pray for God to give me the ability to show grace, because this new position I'm in is very trying.
   I've had so many things I wanted to say that I just can't put into words the right way when I sit to type. I have learned so much, I have seen so much, been burdened with so much,suffered so much. But I also feel like I'm persevering much and I hope that Frank would be proud of how we're doing, what we're doing. I was the crazy worrier in our relationship... I would worry myself sick sometimes over things and he would tell me to chill out or "Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?" (Matthew 6:27). He was the one that would just say " Okay, let's do it!" and I would stay up nights weighing out every possible scenario and detail.  He lived a more fearlessly.  I think he left part of that with me. I am definitely not the same person I was 6 months ago.  Frank would have really enjoyed this new me. I hate that I had to lose him to become this person. He would have been so proud to see me running so much, achieving new high mileage goals, running a half marathon next week,kayaking,hiking with the kids. He would have been so happy to see me and Lori taking the kids up to Mt.Rainier, me taking the kids to California for spring break..... all these things I would have been a bit afraid to do before. It's not fair that losing him has resulted in all this change he would have loved to be a part of. I know he got Heaven, and that is way more rewarding, but I wish he were here seeing all this, living our life with us.
 We hurt so much and so deeply because we love him so much. We were so lucky to have him and his love and his incredible personality.  I carry him in my heart and see his face in my children's. We talk about him everyday and I try to live and do things that would honor him, create a lasting legacy and help us deal with our grief positively. I also pray that in another 6 months there will be much more healing and less hurt,less lonely.

I can't thank everyone enough for the support,prayers,encouragement,friendship and love these last 6 months. I think we're doing so well because of it. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve all it, but I'm grateful for it.

                                                    We're hurting, but we're going to be alright. 

20 weeks

The Christmas lights and frozen nights
have given way to spring's blooms and sunny days
I still sit on the porch and cry for you
One foot on the road to the future
one foot stuck always back in December
I watch the stars and wonder
when I'll ever stop thinking
"maybe tonight he'll come home"
Always memories replaying
of when life was life-
Perfect- and we didn't even know it
20 weeks and I'm still crying.
20 weeks and you're still dying every day
over and over again in my mind
20 weeks and it's still just the beginning
of our forever down here
without you.

Love wins.

3-16-10 ( 11.5 months into a 12.5month deployment in Afghanistan)
Babe,

I love you. You're the one I want most when shit hits the fan, when I've had a bad day, when I just need SOMEONE to understand me and love me. I still feel so lucky that I have you. I can't wait for you to get home, to watch you walk that ridiculously long walk up Green Ramp... catch your eye, smile and know that's the last damn time you'll be doing that. I can't wait to have our kids bombard you and then I get my turn. I can't wait to bring you home, hold your hand in the car, have you set your stuff down and know you won't be picking it back up and leaving again after 2 weeks. I can't wait to love you and love you and love you.

I miss you and I am now so freakin' excited that you will be here soon. I can't believe it's almost over.
Love you, so so much.
Krys


I was reading through our old emails from deployments and this one struck me especially hard. It sums up how deep the loss of him is. We're not all so lucky to have someone you can ALWAYS count on for emotional support. But I was. No matter what was going on, how bad things were, how stressed out I was... he could make it better. Just a few words of encouragement from him could calm me through hard times. He built me up, never tore me down. He made me feel beautiful and desired even when 4 pregnancies,3 births and breastfeeding 3 babies had done it's job on my body. He made me feel funny and fun to be around by always wanting to spend his time with me. I knew that I was the person he preferred to be with if he had his chance to spend time with anyone. He held my hand. He sat me up on the kitchen counter and made out with me.( that very morning even.) He told me jokes. He made his weird faces at me. He always grabbed my butt. He always tried to get me to lighten up, stop worrying so much and just ENJOY. He encouraged and supported my passions, he amazed me with his generosity and hospitality, he was loving and fun with our children. He was the friend you could count on for just about anything, anytime.When I had a bad day with the kids and was questioning my abilities as a mother, he always reassured me and told me I was doing a good job.
I've really struggled this last week with coming to terms with the vastness of him not being here anymore. There are so many things I want to tell him and ask him about. There have been so many moments when all I want is to be wrapped into arms and my face in his chest and just feel safe. He was my safety. He was my refuge. For 15 years he was my best friend and when it came down to it, the ONLY person I wanted. 15 years and I still liked to watch him sleep, loved listening to him breathe, was IN LOVE with him.
I know I was blessed. I know some people go their whole lives never having THAT kind of love.
And his love was the kind that mattered. It filled me up and left me full.He left me without regrets. We loved each other and loved and enjoyed each other well. I only wish we would have had more time. His love left me secure,confident and strong. Strong enough to lose him. Strong enough to carry on without him.


But good God, I miss him. And wow, the hole that is just here. The ever hanging emptiness. The silence when I need reassurance. The comfort when I'm scared. The laughter when I needed to get over myself. It's just not there. At the end of the day, I'm left with nothing but the memories how it felt to be his. But I'm not his anymore. I don't even feel like life before Dec 12 was ever even mine. I look at pictures and struggle with believing that was ever really my life. Time is warped since Dec 12. It feels like yesterday and a million years ago all at once. Time doesn't move the same either. It's been 3 months and 5 days but feels like 5 years. Time has slowed down to a drip. My heart feels like it beats slower and out of rhythm. But stronger.
Every bit of my life is completely different without him. Every minute is touched by his absence. Every road I walk on is now different from the way it should have been. I'm meeting people I never would have, doing things I wouldn't have had time ,the reason or the drive to do. Making decisions alone. Parenting alone. And struggling with it terribly. Mourning my past, present and future. Pictures from the months leading up to Dec 12 are hard to look at. It's like knowing a movie will end really badly and it makes you anxious knowing the tragedy is coming. The future feels like that sometimes too. Like every bit of it is marred by this. Sure, we may smile, laugh and carry on, but we're wounded. Never going to be the same. Never going to trust happiness again. It's too fragile, too fleeting. But on the other hand I feel like someday I could love someone and love them well and appreciate love and marriage even more because of losing Frank.I was a good wife. I loved being married and was really good at it. I can't believe that at 32 it's over for me. It's all I wanted to be in my life... his wife and their mother. Now I can't be his wife and I am royally screwing up being their mother. God is going to fix this and use it for His glory though, right? I know the end of this story. God wins. Love wins.I wish I could remember that all the time.

I had 15 years with a man who was brilliant, funny,dedicated,good and he loved me. He chose me everyday,even when I didn't deserve it. Those 15 years made me who I am. HE made me who I am, both his amazing life and devastating death.

Love wins.








When it's all said and done no one will remember how far we've run the only thing that matters is how we did love.....
("Blink" by Revive)

Feb 12

I wrote this on Feb 12, just never posted it, like I've said... it's exhausting to sit and type all this out sometimes....


There have been so many things I've wanted to say the last 2 months,so many emotions to convey, the depth of the pain,sorrow and anger but sometimes words just wouldn't come. Prayers wouldn't come. I can "write" posts in my head all day but when it comes to the end of evening and it's just me and the quiet.... just can't usually bring myself to tap it out. Grief is exhausting.

It's been two months today. I wanted to not even be aware of the date but it snuck in on me today. Usually on Mondays I might look at the clock at 11:30am ( last time I saw or talked to him) and again at 8pm( time of the accident) and I've even been woke up for various reasons around 2:40am on a Tuesday morning ( the time I woke up and realized something was wrong). Anxiety engulfs me at those times. When I go to bed at night, I hate it because I get very anxious. Coming downstairs to make a bottle or turn the heat up, or because I forget something and going back by that glass front door in the dark makes my blood run cold every single time. My heart beats faster and I feel lightheaded. The thought of those men on my doorstep induces panic. And it's not like anyone is ever going to be coming to that door to ruin my world again. And sometimes it's not the lack of his presence but the presence of his absence that lingers the most. That makes no sense, maybe it does if you know what this feels like. The thought of going to be one more time without him every night makes me stay up until 2 or 3 am sometimes.
We've begun healing though. By week 6 I had hit the absolute bottom of the pit, we had already been snowed in for a week up here, everyone passed the stomach virus around. I had one whole day when I was so sick I stayed in bed all day. Worst day so far. I cried all day. I can't just sit still, I can't let myself lay around and grieve like that ever again. I had weeks there at the beginning when I was on the brink of losing my faith, giving in to complete anger and hopelessness.... I would pray that either God would turn back time or just let a carbon monoxide leak take us all in our sleep. I wanted Heaven. I wanted out of this madness, the disbelief, the knowledge my children were fatherless, the knowledge that my Frank was never coming home. I wanted to die, I 'm sorry for admitting it, but it's true. I couldn't see a reason for any of us being here without him. One evening at dusk the sky looked really weird and Zoe said " It's the end of the world!" jokingly and I jumped up and yelled "WOOHOO,FINALLY!" And I wasn't joking. Hopelessness is a bad bad thing. I didn't realize you could feel such gut wrenching pain and still live. But apparently you can. I feel like the walking wounded. I feel like people can take one look at me and know " Something really horrible has happened to her." Pain that deep should leave a physical mark, right? It doesn't though.
But after week 6 I started getting little pieces of hope and I started clawing my way out of the deepest part of that pit. I came across an email he had sent me in Nov 2010, when he was away for 14 weeks for a school in Alabama and it's changed my life.....

11/15/10
Hey sweetie, Heard this song this morning. The lyrics really spoke to me about us.

Be strong in the Lord and, Never give up hope, You're going to do great things, I already know, God's got His hand on you so, Don't live life in fear, Forgive and forget, But don't forget why you're here, Take your time and pray, These are the words I would say, Last time we spoke, You said you were hurting, And I felt your pain in my heart, I want to tell you, That I keep on praying, Love will find you where you are, I know cause I've already been there, So please hear these simple truths,

I hope that you have a nice day! I love and miss you and really am praying that we are finished with the course this week and can start being a whole family again.

Frank himself gave me back hope. And I've been climbing out of that pit ever since. I started thinking about what he would say about all this, how I was handling things, what I should be doing with the kids, my future, etc. And it's helped. I still cry a lot some days. Some days I don't cry at all. Some days I still might be so angry that I want to scream, but they are fewer and farther between. I think the reality has sunk in as much as it can and acceptance is possibly starting to happen. I still don't believe it if I look at a picture of him for more than about 3 seconds. When I think about the details of the crash, I can't believe it. When I think about how in 30 years we're still going to be missing him and hating that he's gone.... it's hard to believe. But life is going on. The kids are dealing better than I expected. We still have some big issues. Behavior has been a challenge. Liam is the most heartbreaking thing around here right now. He's 3 and just doesn't get it. He cries and cries for his Daddy. " I need him! He needs me! He never comes back! I want my Daddy! My Daddy loves me, he needs to come back!" It's enough to make grown men cry and believe me, it has. He walks up to strangers and says things like "My dad died" or "My daddy is in heaven." The poor baby just doesn't understand. I pray someday soon he just forgets. His cries are more than I can bear. I hate this for me, but I hate it more for my poor kids. They didn't deserve this. If I could change this for anyone it would be for them.
So the big question everyone has for me is always "How ARE you guys?"
We're here. We're breathing. We get up every morning, we do what we're suppose to, we laugh, we cry, we yell, we don't understand, we hurt deeply. But we're okay. God has not left our sides. He has not burdened us and then left us all alone.
We're okay.

More hurt.

Just when you think you've felt all layers of hurt, another one peels back and reveals another raw,traumatic layer.


Eight weeks ago tonight Frank gave Hunter the last bedtime bottle he'd ever give him and tonight I did the same thing. I sat and held him, tears slipping down my face onto his little blue jammies and kept whispering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He was with his new mom most the day today and it was a hard adjustment for me. For 6 months and 5 days he's been my constant responsibility and all day I kept panicking " Where's Hunter?!!" or "Someone check on Hunter" only to realize, " Oh yeah, he's not here." I was packing all his things into his suitcase, kept thinking about how empty this place will seem when he's gone. Buoniconti:Party of 6 will be down to Buoniconti:Not-so-party of 4. God, please let this be the last of our losses, we can't bear anymore.
I know deep down this is what is best for all of us and that he is going to an amazing family. Honestly he's going to be far better off than these 3 left here with me. He'll be in thick of 8 other siblings, a mommy AND a daddy, lots of laughter and joy. He's the lucky one. Here at our house we're just stumbling through the days, some better than others. Healing has been happening though, I can say that.
I still struggle horribly with feeling guilt and shame. I beat myself up for not being THAT mom, who can homeschool, be amazing all the time for her children, have almost a dozen children and be the one purposely picking the severe special needs child.... if I could just be more like that, than I could handle all this. If I could just handle all his needs, present and future and still help my other children heal and thrive..... if if if.
I can't though. And it sucks admitting you can't do something when for years you've said 'Yes, I CAN."
I know that Hunter is going to be fine. My other kids will get past his leaving. I'll somehow get use to the lack of baby bottles, musical toys, all the extra diaper changes,the double stroller, the sounds of his silly giggles, even making up his meds. So much of my day is centered around caring for Hunter. He's the one I hold and hug the most. There is going to be an emptiness here that just fits into the emptiness Frank left.

We'll keep marching on along this road we never saw coming,some days with weeping and some days with hopefulness.


My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. 2 Cor 9

Remind Me.

There's been some hard moments in this house the last 24 hours and the heartbreak hasn't stopped or gotten easier or more understandable.
Last night after writing about the Hard Decision I sat outside for a long time pacing and listening to a few songs, just trying to find my way. I am so confused and so sad and so disappointed. I feel all your prayers, I read all your amazing messages but I still don't feel like a strong person or a great mom or any of those things. I just feel lost. Like I've just been dropped in the ocean and told to swim, knowing there's no way I can make it from one end of the it to the other. The feelings are that vast, that deep, that lonely.
I'm so desperate to know what the future looks like because the right now hurts too much. Melody and I were talking about it last night , we just want to see what life looks like 6 months, 8 months, a year from now. Will there be more joy than sorrow? Lord, I hope so. I want to know that I will have a purpose defined for me. Who I am suppose to be now?

And then this song keeps popping in my head, I heard it for the first time the day after the world changed.....

(click the title)

Remind Me Who I Am

Hard Decisions.

I've been trying to write this for days but haven't had the courage. This isn't going to be pretty, some people might be awfully upset with me for this, but I can't help that at this point. My hope is that most of you would understand that I have been in a hard place not just the last 4 weeks but the last 5 months. A place most people can't understand. And that was before I become a 32 year old widow/adoptive mom with 4 small children. Hopefully you'll understand that there's nothing more painful than losing your spouse and having to make decisions you'd otherwise never would have had to make.

At 3am on Dec 13 alot of things ran through my mind when those men informed me that Frank was dead. But before they had even crossed my threshold to come into my house I thought "How am I ever going to keep Hunter NOW?" Because for the month before his death I had been grappling with the new information we had about his medical needs and it was scary. It wasn't very hopeful and it had us reassessing what our future was going to look like because we knew Hunter was never going to be out on his own, he'd probably never talk or potty train or any of that. We grieved. But.... We would do it together. Frank was naively optimistic about Hunter's diagnosis, it sometimes really annoyed me. But that was Frank. He loved Hunter wholeheartedly since the second we saw his picture. He loved him fiercely and fought for him to be in our family. He brought levelheadedness and that pesky optimism to me time and time again when I would freak out about if adopting him was really the right thing to do. I've made no secret about this.....if it weren't for Frank, we would never had adopted him. I never felt completely right about it, but I trusted God and I trusted my husband and I did it for God and my husband. I had been saying for months that I wanted to do hard things for Jesus and boy did I get the experience I was praying for, just not the one I thought I was gonna get. I had asked Frank once WHY, WHY this little boy? And he told me that while he was in Afghanistan he saw some terrible things that had been done to women and children and he couldn't do anything to help them, he wanted to be able to help someone and he felt very sure that adopting Hunter was the right thing to do. I knew some of those terrible things he spoke of, and I knew that adopting Hunter was part of Frank's healing from seeing those horrible things. I loved him so much, I wanted to give him the world. So I said yes even though most of my brain and heart screamed "NO!".
It's also been no secret that attaching to an adopted child can be very hard and I struggled from the very beginning. The severity of his special needs shocked,frightened and overwhelmed me. But I pushed on. I didn't fall in love with him, I didn't love him like I loved my other kids but I felt very protective of him, I loved him in my own way and I took damn good care of him. Hunter needed an advocate mom and ,boy, did he get one. He had a daddy who loved him to pieces and we would spend our evenings snuggling with him, playing with him and talking about what else we could do to help him. We were a team. Hunter needs a team.
All the while I struggled with attaching and I have never prayed for anything more in my whole life. I would fall on my face on the floor crying out to God to help me love him and help me be the mom he deserved.I prayed for my heart to be filled with love for him. I'll tell you right now, my prayers were not answered in time. And now my heart is shattered.
Losing Frank has been the worst thing I can imagine. There just aren't the right words to describe it. But to add to the pain is this realization that 12 days prior to his death we finalized the adoption and Hunter became legally ours. I just can't understand the timing of this tragedy. This fatherless little boy needed a mom and a dad and he gets orphaned right after getting them??? WHAT?! I'm trying to desperately to understand The Plan in all this mess. How does any of our struggle, any of our work, any of our faith makes any sense when we adopted this child and I now have to give him up because there's no way I can care for him now???? God, where are You in this????
So that's it. Frank is dead. My children have no father.I have no way of continuing the extensive care of Hunter while also trying to raise my other 3 kids.It's just not possible. In a year my heart hopefully won't be as broken. But Hunter will still be Hunter and he will only be harder to take care of. SO Hunter will be adopted by a great family who can give him everything he needs and handle those severe special needs. My heart is completely shattered. I feel ashamed, awful and like a complete failure. But I have peace knowing that this is the best thing we can do in our situation. It's best for Hunter and it's best for my other kids and myself. But it's one more devastating blow and I sometimes wonder how much more I can take.
My whole life the last 5 years has been about taking care of my family and trying to adopt and advocate for orphans. In one split second my whole purpose is being redefined. Our life should have been adopting more kids, needing a 10 passenger van later this year and working hard to bring awareness to HIV orphans worldwide. I look at his new family's pictures and it just kills me because that should have been OUR life too.8 kids. Lots of smiles. Something just a little extra-ordinary. Doing hard things but those things being worth it because we had each other and we were living the life we felt called to.

Now what? Where do I go from here? I feel like my heart's been busted into so many pieces there will be no picking them up again.

This is why I keep saying "Surely this isn't the way the story was suppose to end!" Jesus, please come fix this.

And that's my hard decision. To let Hunter go because it's the best thing for him. I can't be everything he needs anymore. I did what I could for 5 months and he's come so far from where he is. I KNOW he will be well loved and well taken care of with his new family, who will hopefully be his TRUE forever family.

I would appreciate that if you had any negative views about this, that you honestly just keep them to yourself. I can promise you have nothing to say that I haven't already beaten myself up about a million times already and will continue to do. This was not easy and I'm dying inside even more from it. So just hold your tongues. You haven't walked in my shoes.

Full Moon.

At night it gets really quiet here, which is a good and bad thing. Good because those loud,awful children are finally in bed sleeping and I can breathe a sigh of relief. Bad because the quiet lets me think. And it lets me walk around this house aimlessly looking at pictures, or his coffee mugs or his running shoes. I cry. I walk away. I look at a picture, I cry some more. Sometimes I stand there and quietly yell "WHY?!?! HOW?!?!" but mainly "Why?! Oh God, please just tell me WHY?" Then I'll shake my head and move along. I'll look at mundane pointless things on the internet ( cuz I don't watch TV), I'll make a sad attempt at doing some housework. I'll cry some more. Usually by 10pm I know all kids are out cold and I go outside.
And here's what you would you see: Me standing out on the porch bundled in a hoodie sweatshirt,a plastic cup of rum and coke in one hand, a cigarette in the other( and I didn't drink or smoke before this), iphone playing Mumford & Sons "After the Storm" on constant repeat, my silent partner in this grief -Frank's sweet,faithful dog Ella sitting beside me. I fixate on a star that is right above the houses across the street. And it's freezing here but I don't care. Because I think about that night and how cold it was. And I think about those last few minutes and what it might have been like for them. I hope they didn't see it coming. I've been told Frank went instantly. I think about how after the helicopters fell and how maybe there was just silence afterwards. How they were just out there in the cold together, but gone. I feel like I NEED to be cold to the bone. That somehow if I think about these things and get cold enough that the disbelief will go away and I'll begin to really truly believe this. Every night I sit out there for a long time and never make any sense of it at all.
I ask God alot of questions. I don't expect answers. I ask Him to take away some of this pain. I ask Him to shield my kids. I ask Him to turn back time. Because surely this, THIS is not how the story was suppose to end. Surely not for Frank or Annie or Luke or Shan. Surely not,God.

I've been watching the moon slowly turn full the past week. Tonight it finally is. Just one more agonizing reminder of our new reality. The full moon.

When Frank left for his 1 year unaccompanied tour in Korea in Sept 2000, I was 20 weeks pregnant with Zoe. And for a year I stood and looked at each full moon, knowing I only had X many more until he was home again. Through year long deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan I counted those full moons. Through 3-4 month training times when he'd be away, I counted those full moons. The full moon made me sad but hopeful. Only 10 more. 7 more. 3 more. 1 more until he's home. Now each moon will take me further away from his last moments with us and it's hard to imagine someday when there will be 3,7,10, 50, 200 moons without him. Just an endless amount of pain and longing.
Tonight I came inside and sat here to write this. Stopped halfway through because Liam, our 3 year old, threw up in his bed. As I was cleaning him off in the bathroom he was crying for his Daddy. "I need him. I need a mommy & a daddy. I need to get a daddy."
God, how is this possible? Why so much pain? Why so much gut wrenching pain? WHY? Surely this is not the story.




The sun,the moon
they have all been blown out
you've left me in the dark
No dawn. No day
I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart.


Cosmic Love, Florence & the Machine

Damn Pears.

I'm learning that grief touches everything. EVERYTHING. And it can leave you alone for a few minutes and then stab you right in the guy with something very small.

Today was a rough day for me. I didn't get any sleep last night thanks to a certain baby, the big kids went back to school, I had a meeting with our landlord and then needed to go to the bank and the commissary. I knew the commissary was going to be emotionally trying. Frank was a foodie and an excellent cook. He loved coming with me to the commissary.
So after an upsetting phone call in the parking lot of the bank, followed by being even more upset in the bank ( hey, money is not fun if it comes because of something like this, I would burn it all in a pile and live like a pauper if it brought back my husband), drove onpost and held my breath waiting to see Kiowas flying. Today was the first day since the accident that they've been back up, I knew it would be hard.
I get into the commissary and stick my iPod in my ears to block out other people and start in the produce section.
And it hits me.
Don't buy those brussel sprouts. He was the one that could make them decently.
Don't buy the cauliflower, he's the only one that would eat it.

But it's when I got to the pears that I felt the life drain out of me. I stood there holding a freaking danjou pear and just cried.

A few weeks before he died he PERFECTED his pear torte. We bought like 10 lbs of pears from the Olympia Farmer's Market and he kept making these amazing tortes. Each one more awesome than the previous.

I'm wondering how to get on living when everything I see is a reminder that I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want this world without him in it. I know I have these beautiful children but they are a constant agonizing reminder of what we've just lost. Their pain kills me. And my pain envelopes it all. The quiet of this house in the evening is more than I can stand.

And tonight the sound of helicopters all around our little town is taunting me.
He's never coming back. He's never coming back.
And everytime I see a pear, or hear a helicopter or any one of a million tiny things I will remember what I've lost and what life looks like for me now. Lonely. Broken. Desperate for Heaven.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H.Aulden

The Day The World Changed.

On the evening of December 12, 2011, my husband CW3 Frank Buoniconti and 3 other pilots were killed when their Kiowa helicopters collided during a training flight on Fort Lewis WA. December 12, 2011 we got up to get the kids off to school. Frank was flying nights that week so he was home that morning. We got Zoe out to the bus, hung around with the boys , they watched the obnoxious Kia Hamster Party Rock commercial about 5 times, we danced around in the kitchen, laughed... normal "us" stuff. I had errands to run and he came with me so I wouldn't have to drag the toddlers out of the van every time. Came home, put the littles down for their nap and spent some nice time together before he headed out to work at 11:30. He kissed me goodbye, said "I love ya, see ya tonight" and got in his truck and drove off happy. He called me a few minutes later and said "Hey, would you close the garage door? I love you!".I went on with my day, Hunter had a doctor appointment that afternoon... our last one for a month. It was a cold day, but after we got back from the hospital I put the littles in the stroller and we were standing in our driveway when a Kiowa flew over the house low and slow. I knew it was him, I took a video of Liam yelling. We loved seeing Daddy fly over the house. Now that I think about it... that was the last glimpse we got of him. Flying out over Puget Sound... doing what he loved. I got the big kids home from the bus stop and did our normal evening stuff. After the kids went to bed I was cleaning up my office and putzing around on the computer. I was waiting up for him, figured he'd be home around midnight. By 12:30 I decided to go to bed. I heated up the rice bags to warm up his side of the bed ( He came home like a block of ice after flying at night up here), I did that so he wouldn't put his cold feet on ME when he slipped into the bed. He loved that I did that for him. I rolled over and fell asleep and woke up with a start at 2:40 and immediately felt something was wrong. He should have been home by then. I sent a text at 2:43 "Babe,where are you?" Didn't get a response. Got out of bed, looked out the window to check for his truck, paced a few minutes. Got back in bed, trying to shake it off. But I felt seriously off. I texted him "Worried here-are you okay?" I laid down but my head was What If-ing already. A few minutes later the doorbell rang. I know I freaked out but I also thought " Oh crap,he's home and I left the chain on the door!". The dog bolted down the stairs, I started walking down the stairs and got midway down and could see through the glass door. I could see guys in uniforms standing on my doorstep. My knees kind of buckled and I started shaking really bad. I walked slowly the rest of the way at one point thinking " Maybe they're cops, maybe he had a car accident". But I opened the door and two Army uniformed men were there. And I knew, but I didn't knew. I can't remember exactly what they said.They asked if they could come in and I ( must have been in shock) said " If I let two men in this house at 3am Frank's gonna kick my ass." The chaplain shook his head and said ' No, ma'am, he's not." And that's when I realized what they were there for. I asked them " Oh God, who was with him???" They couldn't tell me. I don't remember at what point I found out later that it was 3 others that died as well. I let them in and remember that slow walk to the living room and just shaking so bad and being so cold. I sat on the couch and just kept saying "I don't believe this." The guys were so nice, they were upset too, one of them read the official statement. something to the effect of " I regret to inform you that while flying a training mission last night on Dec 12 your husband CW3 Frank Buonicont ( except he pronounced it like picante) was killed ". Murder my heart. I'm sitting here typing this 19 days later and I still can't believe it. I went into complete shock. They asked if I wanted to call anyone and I had to go upstairs to get my phone. I called our friends Bobby & Melody who live down the street, Bobby is a pilot in Frank's troop too. I called Frank's brother so he could go tell their parents. I called our good friend Lori, who is also a pilot up here. I don't remember much about that morning. Bobby,Melody and Lori got here pretty quickly, we decided to let the kids go to school without telling them. We had to to hold it together. It broke my heart putting Ronin on that school bus knowing that when he got home I was going to tell him the worst news ever. I know I spent the day just in shock. But we laughed, we cried, we laughed some more, we cried some more. I had to call about a million people and deliver the news. Every time I said it I still didn't believe it. About mid afternoon I finally just laid down on the bathroom floor and sobbed until I couldn't anymore. As the hours rolled by and it was time for kids to start getting home I just wanted the world to end. The thought of telling my poor sweet kids that their Daddy wasn't ever coming home again..... I still can't believe I had to do it. But I did. I took Zoe for a short walk as soon as she got off the bus. It was awful. I took Ronin up to his room and told him. It was awful, he's 6 and he's our sensitive one. He just cried and cried so loudly. The other grownups in the house went outside, it was too much to listen to. I just sat and held him and cried too. Later I quietly told Liam that Daddy's helicopter crashed and that he was in Heaven now and wouldn't be coming home. I laid on head on my bed and started crying and he reached his little hand out and said "Don't cry Mommy, Daddy be home tomorrow!". I half wished they were all tiny and wouldn't understand, but on the other hand I know that at 3 years old Liam won't remember much later on. And that breaks my heart. The day ended somehow, I don't remember. People were already flying in, family, friends from back East. Thank God for all of them surrounding us. I put the kids to bed, prayed and cried with them. I am thankful for the weekend we had together as a family before he died. On Sunday we went and chopped down our Christmas tree. Frank made spaghetti and meatballs for us, Lori and Melody & Bobby and their 3 kids. I have no regrets about our time spent, I know he was happy when he left this earth. He died doing what he loved and he died leaving people feeling loved and blessed.